Earlier this month, I read a reprint of Laura Lippman’s 2019 Longreads article, “Whole 60,” in Sari Botton’s Oldsters substack. (One of the best things about Substack is connecting with so much good writing!) It’s about her (typical American female) obsession with dieting and slimness. Here’s the plan that worked for her:
“Every day, one day at a time, one meal at a time, one hunger pang at a time, I ask myself what I really want. I then eat whatever it is.”
Scary, isn’t it? As an older American woman, I have not escaped the “diet culture.” And I feel sad that in a world where children are still dying of malnutrition, where people are rushing food trucks in war torn countries for meager supplies, I live in a country where a whole industry is based on not eating too much, how to lose weight, what is the right food to eat….ad nauseum, as they say in ancient Rome.
Which brings me to my late mother’s dietary advice. Lucille was born in 1914, and the Great Depression of the 1930s shaped her life. She and her siblings were forced to quit high school and get jobs to help support the family. Factory jobs that were hard to get and grueling work. “Are you working?” was a frequent greeting between friends and neighbors. They ate oatmeal for dinner. Meat was a luxury. Potatoes and bread were a daily menu item, and not just because they were Polish. They were foods that “filled you up.”
My mother was never fat, but my father was. My mother was his enabler, scraping uneaten food off our plates for daddy to finish. I observed overeating the ‘wrong’ foods at my childhood kitchen table. “Clean your plate” meant eating every scrap, something my sister and I were hardpressed to do. My parents argued at the table and otherwise, and we both grew up with digestive diseases. And of course we’ve tried dieting.
Which is why I find it funny to recall my mother’s admonishment: Don’t Fill Up On Salad! She had boiled “soup meat” with ketchup on the stove. Mashed potatoes. Stuffed cabbage, pierogi, and boiled hot dogs. All her life, meat was what you were supposed to be happy to eat. It ‘filled you up’ and meant you were not poor. Nobody worried about eating the wrong thing.
Now, of course, in 2024, I’m supposed to ‘fill up on salad.’ I do try. And I even like a good salad. But I want to release the stress of talking about the calories in a dessert at lunch with friends. If I want to eat it, I will. I’m not fat. I’m not even overweight. And I know I’m lucky that way. My body type was never supposed to be fat, despite my father’s genes. I’m not thin because I’m a good person. I just want to be healthy.
Life is hard enough without the added stress we put on ourselves to look ‘right’ in the eyes of our society. So my wish for you is to eat what you want, but mindfully. Food should be enjoyed, because we are so lucky to have it. And go ahead: Fill Up On Salad.
Happy New Year!